


the angel in the rubble

by backdraft_bimbo



Series: the angel in the rubble [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: AU where Eddie doesn't ask Buck to take care of Christopher before the tsunami, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley's Surrogate Parents, CPR, Character Death, Depression, Drowning, Episode: s03e02 Sink or Swim, Found Family, Gen, Grief, Liberal use of medical terms, Momma Athena, Tragedy, Tsunami (9-1-1 TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backdraft_bimbo/pseuds/backdraft_bimbo
Summary: It’s Athena who finds his body first.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Athena Grant, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Firehouse 118 Crew, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Howie "Chimney" Han
Series: the angel in the rubble [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184654
Comments: 15
Kudos: 193
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	the angel in the rubble

It’s Athena who finds the body. 

She walks past the makeshift medical relief camp, thirty steps through a puddle of murky saltwater, and boulders over some debris. Nothing leads Athena to this specific spot, where the unidentified body is draped behind a wall of damp rubble. The person’s face is hidden, but the blood reflecting off the moonlit wreckage is impossible to miss. What is more unsettling is the silence; the world surrounding the scene is too quiet. There are no cries for help, no tumbling rocks, no divine begging from the ones who loved this person. 

Athena feels it in her gut; God willing, she is meant to be here. 

Her voice rattles through the radio, almost as if her heart knows the truth before her mind as she informs everyone of the body. It’s not unusual, but it is odd to mention a single loss at this stage. This poor soul is not an outlier. There are flagged and unflagged bodies all around Los Angeles, stuck between collapsed structures, pinned beneath cars, floating out to sea; black bags laid side by side in the morgue, pleading silently to be put to rest, to be buried beneath dry Earth. In peace, of all places. 

Yet there is no peace in this moment. Not as Athena stumbles, the air turning to molasses, her lungs filling with tar. The body is coming closer. Or is she? The more the sergeant looks, the more there is to catalog. Blue sneakers, dark jeans, a salt-crusted white T-shirt. Athena checks the boxes unblinkingly, each adding fuel to the creeping numbness in her throat. Caucasian male, early thirties, brunet. 

(She hasn’t heard from  _ him _ since the wave hit.)

Her lips tremble fiercely as she looks, squinting her eyes to catch the finer details. The man’s left forearm hangs off a bent metal beam jutting out of the pile. For the first time in what feels like forever, Athena is petrified. She can’t move her feet. She wants to stop staring. She doesn’t want to see the string of cursive writing on the body’s numb, sallow skin. 

_ I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.  _

The wail of a siren echoes in the distance, the first sound Athena has heard in the past half-hour. It snaps her out of her terror, and she scrambles up the rest of the pile, a renewed desperation shooting through her veins. Once she is high enough, the slouched figure is in clear view. Athena’s eyes cannot trick her anymore; it was a cruel joke her mind chose to play. 

There are no signs of breathing. Blue-ish purple hands. No chance to save him; undoubtedly and irreversibly dead. She doesn’t examine his left arm, because she knows what she will find. Athena kneels upon the rubble for a while, just staring at the back of the man’s head. Her mind tells her not to recognize the wide shoulders, the tattooed arms, or the short hair she combs her shaky fingers through. Athena cannot say a name. She won’t. 

But as his chin is finally lifted, it leaves her throat anyway. 

“Oh, Buck,” she chokes. “Oh, baby...not you. Not you.” 

His eyes are wide open; glossy sky blue stars frozen in the midst of their supernovae. He almost looks awake in the state Athena has found him in. If only someone could wipe away the blood and the grime, neatly tuck his soul back inside his lifeless form, and let it brighten his eyes again. But Athena doesn’t have that kind of power. Perhaps somebody from the 118 could come down and guide him home. 

She swipes a hand across his birthmark, his limp jaw–he’s warmer than Athena anticipated. There is so much pain to breathe through. Buck had been alive right here, not long ago. Athena wants to tell him to wait, to come back, she’s here now, she’s so close. Before she knows it, her radio is at her lips. If she doesn’t say it now, she’ll never be able to. 

“Attention firehouse 118, this is Sergeant Athena Grant of the LAPD.” The formalities come without warning. Just a delay. They know who she is, what department she works for, her rank, her family. She knows it sounds all wrong to everyone on the line, especially the 118. 

“Athena, it’s Bobby. You all right?” her husband replies. 

“I–I’m gonna need all your firefighters on a separate line for this.’

Once they switch over, with slightly more privacy, Bobby calls for a head count. Eddie, Hen, and Chim all chime in as expected. Thank God they’re all right, Athena thinks. At least  _ they _ got lucky; they weren’t the ones who got crushed by a 40-ton firetruck and spent the following months isolated and in pain. They’re not the ones on blood thinners, sprawled out lifeless in between trash and undefinable debris. They’re not the ones with the dead eyes and the long lashes and the parted lips, beautiful and golden hearted even in death. 

“You need help with something, ‘Thena?” Hen asks calmly. “I hear it’s getting pretty busy over there.” 

God, her best friend sounds so unaware, so ignorant, so blissful. Athena wants to take a moment to soak it in, because it’s the last crumb of normalcy she’ll have for a long, long time. For a second, the sergeant can pretend this isn’t reality. 

Bobby’s voice has a hint of worry now: “We finished loading our vics, about twenty total. Heading over to you soon. Stay safe.” 

She knows her man is concerned about her. He’s such a sweet thing. It’s when she stops answering questions that she starts shutting down, and Bobby knows it. God, she loves him so much. All she wants now is to protect him from this news, because she knows how he’ll take it. He’s lost family before, so she must bear the knowledge that soon, he’ll understand that he’s lost even more. Athena lets out a soft, shaky sigh.

“Just come find me when you get here.” 

* * *

Athena knows the drill. Buck’s funeral will be formal; courtesy of the LAFD. It won’t suit him. If he were alive, he’d probably tell the 118 to throw a party in his honor. Pizza and beer and video games with his family. Admittedly, the sergeant doesn’t know much about Buck’s relationships with the 118, not in fine detail, but that firefighter Eddie Diaz appears in a burst of flames in her mind. Alongside him is his son, Christopher. He’s the kid Buck loves.  _ Loved.  _

And then there’s Bobby, but Athena hurts too much to think about him. 

As she cradles Buck’s shoulders on the soggy ground, there are no tears. Not yet. There is only adrenaline, like she must save him somehow before Hen, Chim, and Bobby come by (and they’re getting closer by the second). She doesn’t want them to be in pain like she is now, brushing aside the wet strands of hair from Buck’s forehead. Athena wishes she could close his eyes before they arrive, but his body is stiff and cold now. Rigor mortis. If she tries to shut his eyelids, they’ll only open again, and Athena prefers to see his baby blue eyes to a half-lidded state that makes him look even more dead. 

Is this what Bobby felt? A stinging ball of anguish in her chest that only seems to expand with every inhale? Athena wants to quell the pain with a mantra of  _ I love him, I love him, I love him,  _ but that only worsens it. She hurts  _ because _ she loves him. Buck was such a sweet, kind person. And now he’s gone. There’s nothing left but a shell. 

Her radio crackles. “Sergeant Grant, we’ve just arrived at the camp. Handing vics over to the medical professionals.”

Athena doesn’t miss Bobby’s silent question.  _ Do you only want me, or all of us? _

“Bobby, I need you and your crew to report to me immediately. I’m located about two blocks north of camp.” She scans her surroundings slowly, taking in a quivering breath. “There’s an overturned food truck and a cluster of party balloons caught in some nearby foliage. You can’t miss it.” 

“Copy that. Heading to you now,” he replies. Athena can’t tell if her mind is responsible, but he sounded… No, she doesn’t want to know. 

Buck doesn’t deserve to be left in dirt and mud, so Athena props his body up against a nearby lamp post. She wipes away as much grime and blood as she can, until she’s the one covered in it all, and folds his frigid hands in his lap. He almost looks heavenly in the dim beams of light, like an angel. It’s horrible and it’s beautiful. 

Athena is afraid, so afraid, because this is when everything changes again. A twisted part inside of her wants to leave him here, run far away and never stop until she wakes up from this nightmare, or even hide Buck’s body away so her friends can postpone their mourning for a few days until he’s found. But the 118 deserves to see him here, like this, before time wastes him away to bones. They deserve to see him  _ almost _ alive. Athena can’t keep him to herself. 

Beams of artificial light reflect off the metal and the water. Headlamps, flashlights. The government-issued kind. Athena wants to shield Buck’s body from the 118 as long as she can, even as Hen calls out to her in the blackening distance. 

“‘Thena, is that you?” 

Athena almost nods, before she realizes they probably can’t see that well. She clears her throat and strengthens her resolve, even as it crumbles apart around her. “I’m here.”

“Do you need medical attention, Sergeant Grant?” 

Athena wants to joke, tell Chimney to curb his formalities around her, but the man has been in paramedic mode since the tsunami hit. Always polite, always courteous, even in the event of a disaster. That doesn’t exclude her. 

“No, I–I don’t need anything,” she answers, voice shaking more the closer they get. It might be the shock, Athena thinks absently. Then it hits her like a bolt of lightning: Buck’s body. She has to hide him. She has to run. She has to stay. There are too many options, and she doesn’t know which is right. 

“Athena?” Bobby calls out. The lights are getting brighter. “What’s wrong?” 

Oh, does Athena love him. She wants Bobby to come close and hold her as much as she wants to chase him away before he sees this. 

Eddie and Chimney exchange a few words out of earshot. The uneven concrete rumbling beneath their feet is deafening. They all want to diagnose Athena; they want a head start; they want to take care of her. But this isn’t normal, they all know that. The moment she called the 118 was the moment they decided they would never turn back, even if she wanted them to. Bless them, bless their hearts. And curse her for bringing them out here. 

“Is that–?” Hen asks, stilted. Her voice is still shielded in professionalism–ingrained procedures and controlled empathy and careful eyes. Check for a pulse at the arteries; carotid, radial, femoral, popliteal, posterior tibial, dorsalis pedis. Two breaths, 30 compressions, 120 BPM. Find the body, flag it. Move on to the next. Everyone knows police officers learn basic first aid. If there is a victim here, they must be alive. If there is a body here, it might be dead. Athena would have tried. She would have saved this person. Why hasn’t she moved on to the next?

“Athena!” 

The woman looks up, dazed. Her feet have brought her away from Buck and over to Bobby. They still don’t know. A light shines through her eyes.  _ Signs of concussion; brain trauma.  _ She bats someone’s arm away; she needs to stop Bobby from looking past her shoulders, into the street lamp light, and then down, down... Athena blinks, grasping Bobby’s arms as Eddie and Hen run past her. If she can’t stop all of them, she has to protect her man for as long as possible. 

“Athena, what…” Bobby shakes his head, so careful with her shoulders, so gentle and warm. There is fear in his eyes now, and Athena watches realization sink into him like an anvil. Chimney stays, asking her procedural questions, scanning for injuries, but then he goes quiet, staring off into the place Athena doesn’t want him to see. 

She hears Hen and Eddie clamoring, and they are not distant. 

“Oh, my God!” All facades of professionalism drop from Hen’s voice. It crackles and breaks until the fear seeps through. “No, _ nonono!”  _

“Buck,” Eddie says, desperate. “Buck!” 

Athena has her back facing the scene, she can’t bear it, but she knows Diaz has Buck by the shoulders, trying to shake him awake, away from the grasp of death. She can’t speak, her throat is cemented, and there’s no way to admit to them that it’s futile. 

“Shit, shit...” Eddie whimpers, and there’s a scramble. His voice becomes furious.  _ “Get the fucking mask, Chim!” _

Athena wants their voices to echo and reverberate through the grays and the blues and the yellows until they become unintelligible. That would make this so much easier to bear. 

“Starting compressions,” Hen chokes. “Chimney!” 

The paramedic rushes forward from his stupor, but as he goes, he catches Athena’s eyes. He knows it’s a lost cause. Chim still pulls out his trauma bag, because that’s what they do. 

“23, 24, 25, 26…”

“Fuck,” Eddie grits out. 

“27, 28, 29, 30…”

“Now! Do it!” 

Bobby is stone silent and still, eyes locked on the scene before him. He has Athena by the shoulders, his grip loosening slightly, so she pulls his hands closer. He’s retreating; unreadable. 

“One, two. Switch.” Eddie takes Hen’s place. 

“I found him like this, Bobby,” Athena finally manages. “I couldn’t close his eyes.” 

That snaps Bobby out of his unresponsive state. His face twists, lip curling, eyes filling with tears. He can’t look at her. 

“What was he doing out here?” 

“I don’t know.” Athena furrows her eyebrows, ducking her head. “I just had this feeling in my gut...” 

“15, 16, 17, 18…”

Eddie is cussing harder now, Hen is becoming frantic, and Chimney is observing the two in somber acceptance. Bobby watches for a while until they give Buck a second round of oxygen. 

Then, quietly: “Should I stop them?”

Athena can’t find the right words within herself to answer him. She just turns around, putting on the bravest face she has, even with tears on her cheeks, and rests a soft hand on Hen’s shoulder. 

“Come on, sweetheart, come on…” Hen begs. “You aren’t gonna die like this, Buckaroo.” 

“Hen,” Athena says, then shifts into her authoritative voice. “Henrietta.” 

_ Please stop. Let us let him go.  _

It doesn’t stop the firewoman; she continues compressing, tears dripping from her face onto Buck’s limp body. Eddie ignores Athena as well, staring intensely, unblinking, as if that will bring his best friend back to life. Chimney has ducked his chin to his chest, and Athena knows he’s as lost as everyone else. She grips her best friend tighter.

“He’s already gone.” 

Chim silently grabs Hen’s wrist, guiding her away. 

“No, no! Just let me…” 

It’s as if she has just now looked at Buck’s face; his pale complexion; the blues and purples and reds of death. She leans back on her heels, vacant. Bobby watches from a few meters away, too afraid to come closer. Athena knows what he’s thinking, because she thinks it herself. 

_ It should have been me. _

Chimney bites his lip, voice strained and thick with grief. “We have to tell Maddie.” 

None of them want to. How do you tell your friend’s sister that you’re the one who found his body? 

It’s Eddie who chokes next, covering his eyes with his palms. “I should’ve gone to him earlier, man. I should have. I should’ve checked on him at his apartment, made him hang out with Chris, just to get out and do something. But now he’s here. He was  _ alone _ , and I can’t even–” His voice cracks. 

Athena wants to rip something apart. If it weren’t for the bomber, Buck would have never been in that explosion, and he’d still be in the fire service. He’d be alive to save victims in the tsunami, rather than become one himself. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. It’s normal; it won’t destroy them. A little part of her brain goes to the place she’s been avoiding, a place that blames Bobby for keeping Buck away. But Athena can’t do that to him. She won’t. It may be the truth, but it’s cruel. A natural disaster is out of their hands. 

Sergeant Grant wipes the dust off her uniform, straightens her posture, and addresses the 118. 

“There’s enough guilt to go around, Diaz. We need to keep our heads right now,” she says firmly. “Let’s bring Buck home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm a monster... but aren't we all? 
> 
> If you were confused about how Buck died, this is an AU where Eddie never went to get Buck out of his house to hang out with Chris, which led to him going to the beach alone in order to cheer himself up. This led to Buck being in the no-man's-land field of the tsunami, and he ended up being washed up toward the medical base camp, inevitably to be found by Athena. It's tragic and sad, but I felt like writing it. I might continue this with some paranormal implications later... but I don't wanna spoil that if I do decide to keep writing. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked this! Thanks for reading :)


End file.
